Ebbing and flowing in an endless struggle
The horizon and reality
Most days, far away, but some, dangerously close
On those days, the white of horizon encroaches
Trying to take, itching to eat
The sound of static, disguised as rain
Consuming all other sounds
Reality, though, puts up a fight
Emboldening the colors of the surroundings
As if to say “I’m real, I cannot be destroyed”
The battle ebbs and flows until the horizon again recedes off into the distance
To fight again another day

The darkness,
Comforting as it may be
A parasite, eating away at life
Come! Let’s join in campaign
An army of light to fight back
For the dark tells lies
Lies about how life is meaningless
What gives one’s life meaning
That question resounds
For some, art, others pets
But never the exact same
That meaning comes from within
The dark cowers before the light
Though it still tries to slip through the cracks
Trying to corrupt those of light
Twisting thoughts to take control
A hard battle to fight alone
But, together, we are all strong

The spark I lost in the years so far
Lost when I began to say "Impossible"
"That's impossible, I can't do that..."
"That's impossible..."
"Impossible..."
It's time to learn how to laugh again
Laugh at the word "Impossible"
Laugh at what it means
It's time for me to embrace
That moment of freefall
The moment I learn whether I can fly
Or I plummet to try again next time
Learning about my wings

Everyone’s favorite actor
Putting on a happy face for the world
Fooling everyone, even themself
The crowd applauds, each act garnering more
But the play is just about over
The final act is about to begin
The facade falls, the actor revealed
Time is running out to fix up the act
Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock
Unable to fix the play, they skip to the end
Their Grand Finale

Shards of thought
Usually in sync
A clear tone
Out of phase, though
A cacophony
Hard
To
Think
One thoug- anoth- yet on-
Different waves
What abo-
Cancel out and add
Mayb-
A useless signal
Too much mental noise

Sometimes I wonder
How thin is that thread
The thread I live on?
My body, damaged by itself
Kept alive by a life support
A little machine, fighting its battle
A never ending job
But, sometimes overzealous
Bringing me closer to the other edge
Reminding me how thin my thread is
Waking up, not a guaranteed occurrence
Some days, I wake up dangling over the edge
A correction overshot the night before
Now requiring attention
Though, what would happen if I fall off
Before I wake to take care of it?
Will someone catch me?
Another machine, tasked with watching
Alerting me when I near the edge
But, when it fails to wake me from deaf sleep
I am reminded of how thin my thread is

A shelf of broken bottles
Once a collection of happy memories
Now collecting dust, the happiness long since spilled
I pick up the pieces each time
Another bottle fallen and shattered
The collection, once sweet
Replaced by a bitter reminder

New bottles come in from time to time
Allowing a new shelf to be filled full
Though not as sweet as the vintage
But, as I try to enjoy them, my grip slips
Another broken bottle, another pile of glass
Until I have another shelf of broken glass